To Tell the Truth
by Segway
Summary: Optimus reflects on an old, dark secret of his. One he wishes to tell, but knows he can't. It's something could cost him one of his dearest friends.
1. Chapter 1 Optimus

To Tell the Truth

[A/N: Please read all the way to the end.]

***

My name was Orion Pax. It wasn't a valiant name. It wasn't a name that alluded to riches. It was my name and it fit me perfectly in every way.

Until the day I died.

But it wasn't a true death. My spark never left my body to join that of the Matrix. No eulogy was read, and no tears were shed. I merely stepped out of one body and into the next.

I became a Commander and a soldier. I fought for freedom and for peace. I, and every other Transformer who chose to join the Autobot army, defended Cybertron from the Decepticons.

I became Optimus Prime.

***

It hadn't been long after I had been remade when something happened, something I still keep buried deep within my spark. If the truth were ever to be known… I shudder to think of the consequences.

It was my 12th mission as Optimus Prime. 'The battle of Tolmet's Crossing', it would come to be named, long after the fight was over. It was an old storage facility, one very much like the one I used to work at. The Decepticons had formed a base within the buildings, using the maze-like layout to their benefit. The years I spent working in storage facilities proved invaluable; we held the advantage over the Decepticons, eventually weeding them out.

But there were Autobot casualties. We lost a lot of good men that day.

In the aftermath, I, along with several other Autobots, were scouting the area. Looking for anything salvageable, for survivors, and for bodies.

I scoured the area, lifting sheet metal and entering buildings. That's when I heard a faint cry. I followed it, weaving around to avoid the debris. I eventually came to small building. It looked like an old storage shed and smelled of cleaning supplies.

I entered.

It was clearly a Decepticon's dwelling. There was ammunition on the floor, assorted junk scattered everywhere, and empty Energon cubes stacked upon one another. In the corner sat an empty missile shell covered with sheet metal.

I heard the cry again, its origin was clearly from the corner. Kneeling down, I shifted the metal gently, revealing the small form below. He looked up toward me with shattered optics.

I gently lifted him up and cradled him in my arms. His half obscured Decepticon symbol left no doubt to which fraction he belonged.

***

Upon returning to camp with the youngling in my arms, Ratchet had replaced his broken optics with blue ones. He later released the mechling into my care, at my request.

It's been many Vorns since that day. But it is still as fresh in my databanks as the day it happened. It's a dark secret I harbor and is one I simple cannot speak.

Because for all my nobility, I do not have the spark to tell Ironhide he is a Decepticon.

***

[A/N: Thank you for reading, ^^ And constructive criticism is welcome. I wish to improve my writing.]


	2. Chapter 2 Ratchet

To Tell the Truth

*** [Ratchet's POV] ***

I hate it, the way we lie to him.

He's down there now on the makeshift training grounds. He'll hit every target, but he won't stop. He'll do it again and again, until he runs out of bullets, and he probably doesn't know why.

Optimus is on the side, watching him like any creator would. There's a sadness in his optics, a finality I feel guilty for putting there. But I had no choice.

When I first replaced Ironhide's optics with blue, the color had stayed for vorns. But like any mech, his self repair systems considered the foreign glass as damaged, and started converting the glass to its true color. Eventually, the glass was tinted purple, and I was forced to replace his optics again.

Slowly, over time, his optics started returning to their natural color more often, and I can no longer keep up. I estimate his optics will fully convert to red in less then a stellar cycle.

Optimus has to tell him. Short of tearing out his optics permanently, there is nothing I can do. Even a visor would only hide his optics from everyone else.

I watch as Ironhide finally stops and makes his way over to Optimus. His guns are, thankfully, out of bullets at this point. Optimus chose a good time, if there ever was one.

Ironhide has always known Optimus was not his real creator, but he has always firmly believed himself an Autobot. We never lied really, we just never told him the truth. Can't lie if you just don't say anything. Such Decepticon logic.

I continue to watch them with my gun at the ready. Out of ammo or not, Ironhide is still highly dangerous. I wish I do not have to use it, but he is Autobot only in spark; his actions are purely Decepticon.

***

[A/N: Sorry for such a short chapter, but I need some feedback on POV changes. Someone said they were annoying and that you should only stick to one POV for a story/chapter. I'm wondering if I should delete this and continue only with Optimus.]


	3. Chapter 3 Ratchet

To tell the Truth

***Ratchet's POV***

Somewhere in my spark, I know it is wrong to stand here with my hand on the trigger. The two mechs I have long since fought beside are standing before me, not enemies. This isn't how it should be.

Optimus is talking to Ironhide now. He is smiling, but it doesn't reach his optics. He gestures with his hands, a gesture I know indicates a small Cybertronian bird.

An old story they once told me comes to mind, one where Optimus and a young Ironhide went hunting back on Cybertron. It had been one of the few moments Optimus could spare for him, as time was not something he could often afford as leader. I don't remember how it ended, but they had come back closer then ever.

Ironhide's laugh breaks me out of my reverie. I look up to see the two of them. They are standing close. In Ironhide's optics, I see nothing but adoration for his adoptive creator. The guilt I felt from before comes back in full force, but my hand never leaves my gun; He is, and will always be, a Decepticon.

A Decepticon who wears the Autobot insignia. A Decepticon who fights by Autobots. A Decepticon who would give his life for our cause. But still, a Decepticon.

It makes me wonder where the lines of good and evil crossed.

Optimus starts talking again. I wish I could stand closer, to hear what they are saying. But I can't help but feel that it would be an intrusion. This is a private affair, one the rest of the army doesn't need to hear.

Suddenly, Ironhide walks away.

I look up, but Prime refuses to meet my optics. Waiting for Ironhide to leave the area, I step forward.

"Prime-"

"Ratchet." He whispers. "I cannot do this to him."

"Prime…. Optimus… You're not doing anything to him. This won't change him, or who he has been all these vorns."

"We have a stellar cycle." He looks at me expectantly.

"I have nothing, Prime." I shake my head. "Replacing his optics again will only buy us a little more time."

He stands there for a moment. His eyes distant; looking, but not really seeing anything.

"Wheeljack."

He says it so quietly, I almost didn't hear it. It startles me when I recognize what he said.

"Wheeljack?"

He couldn't mean…

"What makes you think," I began. "that Wheeljack could fix this?"

"It is a chance. Please, Ratchet. I cannot lose Ironhide; I cannot lose my son."

I resist the urge to sigh.

"I'll contact him. But I make no promise. Wheeljack is not a miracle worker, and half the things he makes explodes."

I fight the urge to stay, and I leave Optimus to his thoughts.

A short walk brings me to the base entrance and I pass Ironhide and Sunstreaker there. Bits and pieces of their conversation could be heard above the ruckus of the common room. I ignore it an turn down the hallway, toward the communication room.

Opening the door, I spot Bumblebee in the corner. I figure it must be his shift.

"Bumblebee?"

He looks up at me, and nods enthusiastically.

"I need to make a private call. Would you mind leaving for a few minutes?"

He shakes his head and gestures to the communication equipment, then gets up to leave. I make a mental note to check his voice box later.

I wait for him to close the door. As it snaps shut, I set about getting the long distance Comm. up and running.


	4. Chapter 4 Ratchet

The monitor shutters to life, displaying a screen of static with a small loading circle in the bottom corner. I know I'll have a while to wait; Cybertron is far away and a lot of encryptions are necessary to prevent Decepticon spies.

I stand back and wait, thinking of what I'm going to say to Wheeljack. I can count on him to not say anything to the other 'Bots, but getting him to not ask questions isn't as easy. Wheeljack has a very inquisitive nature.

The screen suddenly flares and I can see Wheeljack standing there, for the first time in stellar cycles.

"Ratchet!" Mask or no mask, he is smiling. I wish I could return the feeling.

"Wheeljack. Long time no see." I force myself to fake a smile.

"How are you holdin' up out there, Ratchet? You haven't called for a while, not after the allsp-, well, you know."

"Yeah." I will myself not to sigh before continuing on. "This is going to sound strange, but I need you to invent something."

"Really?" His surprise in genuine and expected. "What is it?"

"A special type of optics, and you can't tell anyone you're making them."

I see Wheeljack slump a little at that; half the fun of inventing was showing people the product. "What of optics do you need? Is anyone hurt?"

"I need you to make a pair of optics that would turn a Decepticons optics blue."

"I'll… See what I can do, but if you don't mind me askin', why?"

"I can't tell you, Wheeljack. And you've got a deadline. I need them before the end of the stellar cycle."

"One stellar cycle? I might be cuttin' it close, but I think I can do that." The confusion was evident in his voice, but I thank Primus he trusted me enough to do this anyway.

"Thank you Wheeljack. You don't know what it means to me."

As I close the channel to Cybertron, I feel a slight relief. Maybe this would-be disaster could be avoided. Then the dread returns, as it finally sinks in that the entire situation rests on Wheeljack and his inventions.

How did everything come to this?

"Ratchet?"

The word startles me as I jolt awake. I hadn't realized I'd fallen asleep.

"Ratchet? Are you awake?"

"Ironhide?" The room is dark, and all I can see are his optics, which are slightly tinted purple. "What is it, Ironhide?"

"My…" He hesitates.

"Ironhide? What is it?" I send a signal to turn on the lights as I sit up from recharge.

"I think there's somethin' wrong with me, Ratchet."

"Wrong?" I feel dread welling within me. "What's… Wrong?"

An hour later, I activated my comm.

"Optimus. We need to talk."

"Ratchet?"

"You have to tell him."

"Wheeljack couldn't-?"

" Wheeljack can make the optics, Optimus, but he can't turn a jet into a truck."

"What? But Ironhide scanned-"

"That doesn't matter. His repair systems are targeting his altmode now."

"Does that mean he'll change his altmode in the same way his optics are trying to revert to red?"

"No. Converting blue glass to red glass isn't lethal. Turning a car engine into a jet turbine _is._ Optimus, we need to reformat him into the right altmode or he'll die."

The other end of the comm. went silent. I regret having to be so blunt, but the situation is dire.

"His repair systems…"

"Optimus?"

"Can we alter his repair systems?"

I should have anticipated this question.

"Yes. But it isn't that simple. We need… Things we cannot get."

"Ratchet, I will do anything! Please."

"We'd need a Decepticon with the same selfrepair system program as Ironhide."

"Where could we find one? Do you have a name?"

"No. We'd need to scan each Decepticon individually, which is almost impossible."

"But this can be done."

"Yes, Optimus. This can be done."

"Thank you, Ratchet."

Sometimes, I would have liked to have shot the Decepticons that left Ironhide behind. Then I remember that we probably did.


End file.
